


Desperate

by Entwife_Incognito



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Confrontation, Depression, F/M, Heavy Angst, Homicidal thinking, Unresolved Tension, hidden love, suicidal thinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 06:09:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8612275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entwife_Incognito/pseuds/Entwife_Incognito
Summary: I have to warn you. This is not like my other stories. It's dark with anger and depression, with violent imagery both suicidal and homicidal, and there is no romance or sex. Just a desperate, hurting man. At least it's very short. A huge reflection of my pain and angst with the show at this point in season six. One-shot. Rated 'M' for the dark theme. I wrote it spare, like clairebare. Disclaimer: I own nothing about The Mentalist.Originally posted at FFnet on April 25, 2014. Now here without edit.





	

The thought of her was the only thing that stayed my hand.  


My mouth was bound. She'd done that.  


Her eyes were blind to me, her ears deaf.  


When she sailed right past me into the arms of another, I tried to be the eunuch she needed me to be.  


But I had balls after all. She couldn't wither them.  


If she could have waited a little longer, given me a sign.  


If she had just talked to me, asked me, since she had cut my tongue.  


I should have taken off my ring. Maybe she would have seen that.  


But why do that for someone so cruel, so cold?  


To think that I was so concerned with her happiness.  


A gun in my mouth and the remains of my head splattering the Airstream, if she never even noticed I'd shed my ring.  


Trust. All gone. And he was the catalyst.  


Easy prey for a predator like me.  


Knife is the most satisfying fantasy.  


Up close. Watch the surprise in his eyes as I look right in them. Watch the life drain quickly away.  


I have stealth and sleight of hand. But he has training. No go.  


But what does it matter if I die in the attempt?  


Nothing lost, nothing gained.  


I'll do it right in front of her.  


The knife is razor sharp and shiny stainless. Hides up my sleeve like a slithery viper.  


I'm on the doorstep when he brings her home from their date.  


The light is bright and fills the grotto of the entryway.  


I could have put it out, but then she might miss the show.  


She greets me, faltering, uncertain, embarrassed.  


I press a kiss on her heated cheek, the first one ever.  


I raise my right hand to shake his and let the knife slip into my left, locate the pulse at his neck.  


His pressure and heart rate are up. He's angry I'm here.  


I shift my stance to be sure she has a clear view and glance at her face to be sure she's looking.  


The eyes of a frightened doe return my gaze.  


She knows something's not right about me. I'm sure my eyes are dilated, dazed and glittering.  


But through all that I see her. The woman I knew. Who loves me. Or did.  


I can't do this to her.  


"I love you," I say and I seem to have her attention now. "I need you."  


I let the knife clatter to the pavement with my ring and walk away.


End file.
